


drop it doe eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When have I ever cried during this movie.”</p><p>“You cry like, every time we watch this.”</p><p>“Do not,” he mutters, and Marco kisses his cheek.</p><p>“Sure,” Marco says, and he stands up to turn the TV off. “Ready for bed?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	drop it doe eyes

**Author's Note:**

> how do you summarize pwp. this is vanilla baby trash
> 
> titled for the [los campesinos! song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaME0_ZnTEo) which has no relation to this fic but hey B) !!!!!!!!!! listen to it if you want

Jean’s been struggling to keep his eyes open for the past few minutes.

He’s supposed to be watching this movie with Marco. He’s really trying to stay awake, but he’s seen Finding Nemo more times than he can count, and he really just wants to crawl into bed and sleep.

He would do that, but Marco has his head in Jean’s lap, and seems to be unaware of his somnolence.

“Are you tired?” Marco says eventually, looking up and prodding Jean in the arm. Apparently he did notice.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Jean mumbles, his voice thick with drowsiness.

“I didn’t say you were,” Marco mumbles back in the same voice, teasing.

Jean thumps Marco head with his knee, making him giggle and squirm to grab Jean’s legs so he can’t do it again.

Jean usually isn’t one to fall asleep during movies, especially during movies he likes. Usually, its Marco who dozes off while Jean is left to awkwardly finish watching by himself. Marco seems unusually energetic tonight, which is probably part of the reason he’s still awake.

They go back to watching the movie, and Marco still has his arms hugged around Jean’s thighs. Jean is still nodding off, but he’s faintly aware of Marco’s fingers occasionally skating gently across the fabric of his gross gym shorts, tracing back and forth on the side of his leg.

Marco wakes him up once the movie ends.

“Fuck,” Jean grumbles, and Marco sits up so his head is out of his lap. “Sorry for falling asleep,” he says.

“‘s fine,” Marco smiles at him, and if Jean’s not mistaken, he looks a little sleepy himself. “Though I’m disappointed you weren’t awake to cry with me in the last few parts.”

“When have I ever cried during this movie.”

“You cry like, every time we watch this.”

“Do not,” he mutters, and Marco kisses his cheek.

“Sure,” Marco says, and he stands up to turn the TV off. “Ready for bed?”

They make their way out of the living room, up the stairs, and into Marco’s bedroom. It’s dark and Jean stumbles into several things on the way there, but once he’s at the bed, he flops face down onto the mattress and physically deflates with a pleased sigh. Marco crawls in after him, maneuvering his long limbs over Jean and lies on the opposite side of the bed.

Jean tilts his head to look at Marco, and Marco’s staring back at him with wide, glassy eyes.

“Marco?” he says and rolls onto his side to face him; because Marco looks intense and is slowly scooting closer to him.

“Yes?” he squeaks after a moment, as if he just realized what he was doing, rather, what he was about to do.

“What’s up?” Jean smirks.

Marco curls in on himself slightly: he looks almost embarrassed. He scratches under his nose and looks up again. When he sees Jean is more amused than uncomfortable, he narrows his eyes and moves closer.

When Marco opens his mouth to speak, Jean brushes his fingertips against Marco’s hand, and his words die as an inaudible sigh on his lips. Marco takes the invitation and entwines their hands; he squeezes tightly and rubs his thumb lightly up and down the side of Jean’s wrist.

In the back of his mind, Jean thinks that this should feel awkward; they’re both just lying there staring at each other, but Marco presses their lips together and the thought leaves his mind immediately.

It’s soft; Marco’s pushing into Jean as gently as he can, and Jean is still a little sleep-lazy, but he responds in kind and can feel the stuffy drowsiness in his head and limbs start to dissipate. Jean tightens his grip on Marco’s hand and yanks him closer, unintentionally causing their teeth to clank and their noses to bump.

“Ow,” Jean deadpans, and Marco laughs and kisses the hurt part of his mouth. He pulls their hands apart so he can trail his fingers up Jean’s neck and along the shaved hair on the back of his head while pressing short, scattered kisses along his mouth. Jean inhales mutely through his nose and relaxes into Marco’s touch and places his now empty hand on Marco’s hip, tracing his fingertips just under the hem of his shirt. Marco is moving closer to him now, and Jean complies until Marco is against him.

“Is this okay?” Marco asks.

Jean tangles his fingers in Marco’s hair and nods, pulling him into another kiss, one deeper than before. Marco makes a happy little noise that gives Jean goosebumps up his arms.

Jean hopes Marco can’t feel how much he’s shaking; this kind of thing tends to make him jittery. But of course, almost as if Marco can hear his thoughts, he breaks the kiss and gives Jean a concerned, questioning look.

“You’re sure?” Marco says, and he starts to back off.

“Fuck,” Jean grabs his arm, “don’t stop,” he says before it registers that this was probably an embarrassing thing to say. Nonetheless, he stares back at Marco, eyes practically begging him to continue. Marco studies his expression for a moment, smiles, and moves closer again.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” Marco whispers, and Jean nods in confirmation before placing a hand on Marco’s jaw and dragging their lips together again.

Marco pushes until Jean is lying on his back and Marco is propped up above him, but Jean grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks him down until they’re flush against each other. Marco re-positions himself on Jean’s waist until he’s straddling him.

He nips Jean’s lower lip between his teeth, and Jean’s breath hitches as he scuffs his nails through Marco’s wavy, dark hair until he reaches his nape. Encouraged, Marco noses his way down the side of Jean’s face, pressing little kisses down his cheek until he reaches his jaw, and Jean whimpers.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jean tilts his neck and Marco kisses and bites gently along the tendons there, presses his tongue against his pulse. Jean writhes involuntarily and pulls on Marco’s hair, eliciting an approving hum against Jean's throat.

As he kisses him, Marco drags his hands down Jean’s body until his fingertips are at the bottom of his shirt, and slowly, he starts to push the fabric up until his thumbs brush the bare skin at the bottom of Jean’s ribs. Since he’s met with no objection, he grasps the bunched up fabric and starts to pull it up.

“Can I?” Marco says, lifting his head off of Jean’s neck to look at him; his eyes are lidded and almost completely black. 

Jean nods and lifts his arms over his head so Marco can pull off his shirt, and it’s discarded on the floor before Marco goes back to kissing his neck. The back of Marco’s knuckles brush along the faint notches of his ribs and down the curve of his waist until his hand is grasping his hip, holding him in place.

As much as he loves the feeling of Marco’s teeth scraping along his neck, Jean really wants to kiss him again. Marco is moving slowly, in a way that shows he’s taking his time and wants to revel in this for as long as he can; Jean feels a stifling fondness for him. He places his hands square on the sides of Marco's face and pulls him to his lips, kissing him hard.

A little gasp escapes Marco’s lips in between kisses, one he wasn’t able to silence in time, and Jean smiles. He splays his hands against Marco’s shoulder blades, fascinated by the feeling of his muscles tensing and relaxing under his fingertips. 

Marco drags his tongue slowly along Jean’s lower lip. Jean moves his hands down Marco’s back and up his shirt, and Marco flinches.

“Are you alright?” Jean breaks the kiss to ask.

Marco snickers against Jean’s lips and nods. “Your hands are really cold.”

“Sorry,” Jean murmurs; he takes his hands out from under his shirt. All he can focus on is how close Marco’s face is to his. Marco’s breath is tickling his cheeks and he can see the flush spread over Marco’s face, even in the darkness.

“You didn’t have to stop,” Marco grins at him and kisses the bridge of his nose.

“O-oh,” he feels silly now.

He pulls Marco’s shirt up again and replaces his hands shakily onto Marco’s lower back.

Marco sits up on Jean’s hips so he can pull his shirt off completely. Jean’s heart drums frantically in his chest, half in nervousness, and half because Marco looks so incredibly nice. He’s seen Marco shirtless before, but never in a situation where it was appropriate to touch him like this.

“You’re really hot,” Jean says, because Marco is literally radiating heat while his icy hands are resting on his sides. “Wait, _fuck_ -”

Marco outright laughs at that, knowing what he meant, but he’s feeling particularly devious and says, “You really think so?” because he wants to see Jean squirm. Jean digs his fingers into his ribs in retaliation, and Marco chokes back a laugh. “Okay, I’m sorry, please don’t.”

Jean leers at him for a moment and sits up so his back is against the headboard and his face is level with Marco’s collarbones.

Jean is much paler than him; his hands look almost spectral as they glide over his olive skin. Marco is stockier, too, with broader shoulders and a thicker waist, and Jean is suddenly a little self-conscious of his own lanky frame.

But then Marco’s hands are back on his body. His hands trace dexterously, delicately down his sides, like he’s studying the craftsmanship of an elaborate sculpture, and Jean feels incredibly important under his careful fingers. He puts a hand on Marco’s neck and leans up to kiss him again.

It’s more urgent than previous ones. Marco prods Jean’s tongue with his own and presses their lips together hungrily; he scratches his nails down Jean’s back and holds him close so their chests are against each other. Marco slowly re-positions them so Jean is on his back and Marco is on top of him again.

Marco trails his hand down until his thumb goes over the hem of Jean’s pajama pants and flicks against the skin there.

“Ah, Marco-,” he murmurs in between kisses. His hands creep down Marco’s lower back until he works up the nerve to grab his ass.

“ _ACK_ -” Marco’s reaction is instantaneous; he twists violently and buries his head in the juncture of Jean’s neck, embarrassed.

Horrified, Jean frantically tries to apologize with “oh my god I’m so sorry,” and “haha oops my hand slipped,” but then he realizes Marco is laughing into his shoulder.

“Why are you laughing?” Jean asks, completely mortified.

“I’m ticklish.”

“On your _butt_?”

“Apparently.”

Jean pauses, considering this, and he bumps his forehead against Marco’s shoulder, smiling. “That’s adorable.”

“ _You’re_ adorable,” Marco simpers against Jean’s cheek.

“Smooth,” Jean says, and kisses the taut skin of his neck, unable to help the blush that blooms in his cheeks. “But um, could I,” he trails off, but starts to skate his thumbs under Marco’s pajama shorts.

Marco nods and starts to maneuver out of them, kicking them off the bed so he’s only in his boxer-briefs. He sits up slightly on Jean’s waist and pulls on the elastic of Jean’s basketball shorts. “And these?”

Jean lifts his hips off the bed, and Marco takes the invitation, shucking them off.

Marco hums as he licks and bites at the skin on his neck, and he experimentally grinds his hips downwards.

Jean’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Still doing okay?” Marco asks. He sounds winded.

“Keep doing that.” Jean grabs his hips, scratching his nails against exposed skin.

Marco does as he's asked, and sets a languid pace. He lifts his head away from Jean’s neck so he can glance his face, pleased when he sees Jean’s eyes are lidded and rolling. Jean is trying to stay quiet, but there are some gasps he doesn't stifle in time, much to Marco’s delight. Marco kisses along his jaw and murmurs encouragement as Jean arches his back.

Feeling bold, Jean slides his hands between their bodies until he can feel the fabric of Marco’s underwear.

Marco chokes when Jean touches him, and he sinks his teeth into Jean’s shoulder when he slips his hand under the elastic and wraps his hand around him.

“ _Oh_ -” Marco jerks forward into Jean’s fist.

Jean can feel himself twitch at that; Marco’s breath is hot on his skin and he tightens his grip as he starts to move his hand.

“ _Wait_ , wait,” Marco breathes, and Jean stops immediately, afraid he’s done something wrong. “No, I just need to,” he reaches over Jean and pulls the drawer on his nightstand open, and fishes around until he returns with a bottle.

“Why do you have _that_?” Jean giggles. Marco looks back at him with wide, doey eyes, and he opens his mouth like he’s going to defend himself. “No- _shhh_ , I don’t care.”

Marco sighs and tugs on Jean’s boxer-briefs. “Can I-?” he asks.

Jean looks away and slides his finger under the hem, pushing them down until they’re around his thighs. Marco sits up and pulls them off completely, then removes his own.

“You’re doing really well,” Marco says, sliding his fingers across Jean’s hips until he reaches his cock lying flat against his tummy. He takes it into his hand, and Jean arches his back shakily. Marco presses his thumb against the slit and leans down again to kiss him.

For a while, Marco just holds him there like that, moving his wrist infuriatingly slow while spreading precome along the tip with his thumb. Jean rakes his nails down Marco’s back and sighs, grinding his hips into his fist.

Marco lets go of his cock and picks up the bottle he’d set down on the bed. Squeezing a generous amount of lube into his hand, he spreads it over his fingers and takes both of their stiffened cocks into his hand.

It’s cold, and both of them flinch; but once Marco is moving his hand again, it starts to warm up and the unpleasant sensation is forgotten about.

Jean kisses along his jaw while Marco focuses on sliding their cocks together. Jean murmurs little encouragements as he rubs Marco’s arms and back and peppers kisses along his neck. Marco speeds up.

“A- _ah_ , that’s- fuck _, Marco_ ,” Jean is struggling to keep himself from squirming more than he already is, especially while Marco is making such nice noises right by his ear. In between intense feelings of pleasure, he feels overwhelming affection for him and holds him as close as he can. “Marco-”

Jean reaches down between their legs and takes Marco’s cock into his own hand; Marco shivers at the contact and thrusts into Jean’s fist, sighing against his collarbone. He grips Jean's cock tighter and jerks his hand faster until Jean is clawing at his back with his free hand and whining.

Jean’s entire body tenses and arches upward, and he chokes out a gasp as he finally goes over the edge, coming on their chests. Marco holds him through it, still stroking him slowly as he collapses back onto the bed and tries to catch his breath.

Once he's somewhat coherent, he remembers Marco still hasn't come. It only takes a few more jerks of his wrist until Marco is coming after him, moaning into the pillow and bracing his hands against the mattress. Once he’s finished, he rolls off of Jean’s hips and onto his side, panting.

They lie wordless for a minute, tired and out of breath. And inevitably, a little embarrassed.

“Sorry about that,” Marco says eventually. Jean turns to look at him and ask what the hell he’s talking about, when he sees Marco looking at the mess on his chest.

“Ew,” Jean laughs and reaches for the tissue box on Marco’s night stand. But Marco takes it upon himself to clean them up. He tosses the tissues on the floor, says he’ll deal with them later, and cuddles up to Jean after pulling the sheets over their frames. They lie on their sides and Marco cradles Jean from behind; Jean’s sleepy and thus is pliant as a doll, and has no objections.

“You smell,” Marco teases.

“Your dick is touching my leg,” he counters.

“Yeah, but you smell.”

Jean giggles and ducks his head, and Marco kisses the nape of his neck. He wraps his arms tighter around Jean’s ribs and nuzzles against him.

“Goodnight,” Marco says a few minutes later.

He thinks Jean must’ve fallen asleep, since there’s no reply, but he eventually hears a very soft “goodnight” that makes him smile ever so slightly before falling asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you make a separate account in the case you write more gross shit
> 
> if there are typos feel free to point and laugh at me
> 
> also im confused how do you rate pwp. like Phallus Entering Vagina Or Butthole i mean that's explicit . if its just dicks touching does that count as explicit. the world is a confusing place


End file.
